


The Fugitive

by ChelleyPam



Series: Dirty Little Secret [4]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, LemonSupreme's Birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:38:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleyPam/pseuds/ChelleyPam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie spends time with sea turtles and crabs.  Then she gets a letter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fugitive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemonSupreme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonSupreme/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, LemonSupreme!
> 
> Are you starting to feel spoiled, yet?

_Savannah, Georgia. June 7th_

The little cottage on the beach outside Savannah was miles away from Sylvania Estates. Not just in distance, but in climate and surroundings. The ocean was beautiful and she had found that she really liked seafood. Miles had said that before the lights went out, they could ship seafood from the coast to all parts of the United States so that you could have live lobster even in the heart of Kansas. Now, however, if you wanted lobster, crab, shrimp, clams or any type of ocean going fish, you'd better live near the ocean.

She'd picked up some traps and had learned how to use them from some old timers. She was only fishing for herself so they didn't mind. There was also game, so she was able to have some variety in her protein, but she was under strict orders to 'keep her stupid to a minimum' and not try to support herself by hunting. Miles had the majority of his pay from his commission with Georgia sent to her, not needing anything more than what he required to keep himself in whiskey. It was a fair trade off for what she put him through when she'd finally had to come clean about Monroe.

That had been a day. It had taken her, Nora, Jim and Ramsey to hold him back. He'd been ready to grab the first horse he saw and ride to Philadelphia, Monroe's death on his mind. They'd finally managed to make him see reason, that going off in his current state would only get him killed. He agreed, however, that Charlie could not stay with the rebels. Couldn't even stay in the Republic. Nora had escorted her into Georgia and Foster had set her up on the coast.

Her catch today was just what she wanted; some rather nice crabs. Nora had picked up a book on different ways to prepare fish and seafood before heading back to Miles. There was one in there for crab and corn chowder. She'd picked up the veggies needed that morning and there was a family dairy that delivered a half gallon of fresh milk to her every morning. Her mouth was already watering.

She carried the trap back to the cottage, lifting the skirt of her dress up slightly so it wouldn't catch on the reeds that dotted the sand. She rarely wore shoes on the beach, loving the feel of the sand squishing between her toes. She didn't know why everyone didn't live here. The place was almost magical. Last month the sea turtles had come in. One of the old timers said it could take up to fifty years for one of them to just reach sexual maturity and they could live up to one hundred years. She'd sat on the porch of her cottage, drinking milk and watching them as they pushed their way along the sand, their massive shells like moving islands.

The wood of the house was weathered and pale from the salt wind, and smooth like silk under her feet. It had been built post-Blackout and had never been wired for power. A wood cook stove graced the kitchen on one end of the house and a fireplace was in the larger bedroom on the other end, though she was assured it rarely got so cold as to need both of them. So far that had proven true. Window screens and a screen door had been salvaged from abandoned houses, allowing her to keep the main windows and doors open so that the breeze could pass through during the day to keep it comfortable. 

She loved living here, but the shadow of the Republic still darkened the horizon. Monroe had power. He had helicopters and tanks and armored cars. Georgia may have a lot of men, rumors reached her that they were being pushed steadily back as the Militia continued to claim more and more land.

She had hopes that she could be absorbed into the greater population of Savannah, much like Miles had been able to hide within Chicago. If she kept her head down long enough, maybe Monroe would give up looking for her.

If she kept to herself long enough, maybe she would eventually stop waking up with that yearning, aching need.

A girl could hope.

She pulled open the screen door and walked inside. The place where she dropped her traps was within site of the house and the people here were good. She rarely bothered to lock up unless she was going to be out of eyesight. Sure, Miles would pitch a bitch if he knew, but what he didn't know wouldn't get her yelled at. 

Setting the trap in the large sink, she got out the large stock pot and moved over to the tube that connected to the cistern attached outside. It rained at least a little almost every day here, and though she had to boil the water for at least ten or fifteen minutes before she dared to drink it, she never went without. Normally she just boiled a pot at night and let it cool, giving her plenty of water for the following day. When she was cooking, however, she just filled up with what she needed. The crabs were pretty big, so she'd need the whole pot. It would take a while to heat up that much water, but she was really craving crab today.

She set the pot onto the stove and added another piece of wood in the firebox. She tried to keep it burning pretty much all the time because otherwise it took a while to get hot enough to use. Plus this model came with an attached unit for hot water that made sure she had plenty when it came time to bathe. When Foster had this house built for her late mother-in-law, she'd really gone all out with it. It was sad the woman only got to enjoy it for a couple of years before old age finally claimed her.

Knowing it would be a while before she could boil the crabs, let alone start putting together the chowder, she turned away from the stove with the intention of checking the laundry she'd washed up the day before. She drew up short, however, when she spied something on her table that should not have been there.

It was paper. Heavy weight parchment from the looks of it. Folded and sealed with wax. She walked over and picked it up, her heartbeat picking up speed at the sight of the stylized M pressed into the red was.

Her fingers shook as she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. The first words had her sitting down with a soft 'thump'.

_My Dearest Charlotte,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. You made quite the site running out of my camp with only my sword, but a little birdie told me that you made it back to Miles safe and sound. I did find my sword. I claimed it from a delightful girl named Alice at one of the brothels. She assured me that you had paid for the dress, so I've decided to go ahead and keep that just in case we decide to use it again sometime in the future._

_Did you like my camp bed? The one at Independence Hall is even bigger. Softer, too. I often lay in the center and fantasize about when I finally have you there with me. I imagine looking up at you while you hold onto the headboard as you straddle my face. Every woman tastes different. You taste like honey and fire, though I've only gotten a hint of you from what I can lick off my fingers. I can't wait until I can fuck you with my tongue until scream and drench me in your juices. You'll be my favorite dessert._

_Then, while you're still coming down from your high, I'll pull you under me and spread you open so I can sink into you slowly. Your pussy is my favorite place to be. It's snug and hot and perfect. Getting balls deep in you is like coming home. I'll thrust into you, feeling your body squeeze me as it tries to pull me in deeper, running my hands everywhere I can reach. I'm going to lick the salt from your skin and revel as your nails dig into my back. I might even let you bite me again with those sharp little teeth of yours. It's just the right amount of pain when you do that, making me want to pin you down and pound you until you scream loud enough to wake the whole damn city._

_I find myself wondering how you are. If you're taking care of yourself. It's been almost five months since those first two days we were together. You should be starting to show, your belly starting to round. You're probably glowing with that special something expectant mothers have. Are your breasts getting too tender to be confined? If I were there, I'd massage them for you, take care of you when you have those little aches as your body stretches to accommodate our child. I long to be there for all the little changes. To hold you close and enjoy every day as you work to create a new life. You are fierce and strong and frighteningly loyal to those you love. You are going to be a magnificent mother._

_You've led me on quite the merry chase. I admit that I hadn't really expected you to leave Miles, though I can understand why you felt you had to. A battlefront is no place to have a child. When you told him why you had to leave, did you tell him all of it? Did you tell him how you sneaked into my house as a maid and let me fuck you in my office? How quickly you get wet just from having me talk to you? How you bought a dress off of a whore so you could get into my camp just so you could have me dominate you? How you wrapped your lips around my cock before I draped your legs over my back so I could get all the way inside you?_

_I told you I'd be coming for you._

_Sebastian Monroe_   
_June 7th_

June 7th?

Charlie tensed to get up only to be stopped by strong arms wrapping around her from behind. “Shhhh. Easy, Charlotte.” Warm lips pressed against the side of her neck, further heating the flush already present from reading the letter. “I wasn't sure if you'd read the whole thing or if you'd try to bolt halfway through.”

She shivered, her head falling to the side to grant him further access. She didn't mean to. Her body just...did it.

His arms loosened enough that he was able to run his hands down her torso and over her belly. “Damn, but I've missed you. Look how beautiful you are.” His voice was a low purr as his fingers started to gather up the skirt of her dress, raising it higher and higher. “Did you like my letter? A little raunchy for a love letter, I suppose, but I felt it was probably just right for the two of us.”

Fingers brushed along the inside of her thighs, eliciting a soft moan as they continued up until they could slip under the cotton of her panties and test the tender flesh there. They slid easily against her, wringing a little sigh from her. 

“So you did like it.” 

He reached up with his other hand to tilt her head back, capturing her lips with his own. Charlie kissed him back eagerly, telling herself that he'd caught her. There was no escaping. 

And she wasn't just saying that because she'd been fantasizing about him. She was pregnant. Pregnant women got horny. She'd read all about it.

And it was his baby anyway. It was probably some biological imperative that made her want to tear his clothes off. At least that's what she was going to tell herself.

He let her go, leaving her feeling unreasonably cold and abandoned, only to pull out her chair and pick her up. He carried her, bridal style, through the cottage and into her bedroom. Her bed wasn't as large as his 'camp bed', but it was big enough for two and dead comfy. He set her down onto it before stripping the simple cotton dress over her head, soon followed by her panties. She went to turn length ways but he stopped her, pulling her to the edge of the bed before kneeling down and draping her legs over his shoulders. 

She watched, transfixed by his eyes, as he lowered his mouth between her legs. The first long, heated lick her falling back into the mattress. He held her hips down with one heavy arm while he nibbled and tasted, teasing her without mercy. She wanted to both get away and to press closer, but he knew exactly how to hold her so she was unable to do either. With deliberate intent he showed her exactly what he'd meant when he'd told her that he'd keep her on the edge until it drove her insane. Hot tears ran from her eyes as she begged and pleaded for him to let her come. When he finally did, all she could manage to do was sob. 

She lay on her bed, gasping as she watched him. Only now did he stand up and strip out of his clothes. Only now did he part her legs wider and push into her. Her sex was still too swollen. Too sensitive. She whimpered, pleading for mercy as he thrust into her with a constant rhythm and no apparent intention to stop. His eyes moved over her, taking in how her fuller breasts moved with the rocking motion of their bodies, looking down to the soft swell of her belly that he was taking care not to press into, coming back up to meet her eyes with a mixture of motions that was probably ninety percent passion and at least eight percent anger. She wasn't sure what the other two percent might have been. 

“No more running, Charlotte. No more.” He started to move faster, each thrust running across over sexed tissues. She would have sworn that there wasn't enough in her to come again, but he proved her wrong. This time instead of the sweet, gray oblivion, everything faded to black.

She woke later to the sounds of someone moving in her little kitchen. The air about her was a curious mixture of sex and salt air. Her center was sore and aching, her body languid and not entirely willing to obey. 

Monroe. 

She jerked up, or at least tried to. Her left arm didn't move with the rest of her and she turned her head to see why. 

Her eyes met the silver metal that connected her wrist to the headboard. 

Son of a...

**”Asshole!”**

He laughed. _Laughed!_ Feeling pleased with himself, was he?

Charlie snarled and started yanking at the cuffs. If she could break the spindle of the headboard she could get free. It was only about an inch and a half thick. How hard could it be?

Of course the banging of the headboard against the wall was a little loud, as evident by the loud sigh from the other room. 

“Charlotte, you're just going to hurt yourself.”

“Then get your ass in here and take these off!”

“In a minute.”

In a minute? In a _minute_? Oh, she wasn't just going to kill him. She was going torture and _then_ kill him! By the time she was done with him he'd be begging Miles to come get him!

She was glaring at the door when he finally came in. “Are you ready to behave yourself?”

“I'm going to shoot you.”

“You might find that difficult considering I think I got all the guns you had stashed around here. Quite the little arsenal you built for yourself.”

“How did you find me?”

He smirked. “You know I've got spies in the Rebellion. I have them in Georgia, too. It wasn't hard to find out where Madam Foster stashed you. I have to admit, this is nice place. I can see why you might like it. Fresh fish whenever you want. Clean air. Weather is usually pretty decent. Of course the winters wont be nearly has harsh as they are in Philly. I think we'll hang onto it once I've secured Georgia. It'll make a nice family get away.”

She just glared at him, imaging his head exploding. It didn't phase him. She should work on her glaring. 

“Now, you had that cookbook on the table marked to chowder and a trap full of crabs, so I took a wild guess that was what you were wanting today. I went ahead and got it ready while you were sleeping.”

She arched a brow. “You cook?”

“A single man who wants something other than beans and hard tack leans to cook.” He pulled a key from his pocket. “I'm going to let you out of those cuffs, but if you misbehave I'm just going to put you back in them.”

She made her glare harder. He ignored it as he opened the cuffs. 

“Now, let's get something to eat.” He held out the worn robe that she hung on the back of the door when she didn't need it. Figuring that it was better than sitting at the table starkers she slipped it on. He followed her out of the bedroom and to the kitchen.

“How did you get all the way to Savannah anyway?”

“I have helicopters.”

“We would have heard a helicopter.”

“I didn't say I flew all the way here. Just close enough that I could come the rest of the way on horseback.”

“You took time out of your busy schedule to come after little ole me? I'm flattered.”

He held a chair out for her with a patient expression. “I did warn you.”

She sat down and let him help push her chair back in. “You're an ass.”

“And you're being stubborn. Really, Charlie, did Miles tell you nothing about me? Family is important to me. I'm not about to let you slip away. We're going to be parents. Besides, I like bedding you too much. You're a damn firecracker in the sack.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sebastian Monroe is ruled by his libido. Who knew? We could have beaten you just by sending you a steady stream of girls.”

“Nah, it has to be the right girl.” He set a bowl of chowder in front of her and it was all she could do not to inhale it. Big chunks of crab meat and potatoes. Corn and onions. He set a plate of sliced sourdough bread between them, each slice slathered with butter, and a glass of milk in front of her. “Dig in. It will be a while before we eat again.”

She frowned. “Why?” He gave her a look that clearly asked her if she was that naive. She knew why. He planned on taking her with him, and this time Miles wasn't close enough to stop him. In trying to hide at the southern edge of Georgia, she'd also left herself without any kind of support in a situation like this. 

Miles was going to be pissed.

Still, she was starving and he'd gone to the trouble of making the same meal she'd been craving all day. There was no reason she should deny herself.


End file.
